Wild winds
by NancyMay
Summary: A period of wild and windy weather leaves the doctor with a puzzle on his hands. Chapter 1 is the light and fluffy start.
1. Chapter 1

We've had some big storms here lately, Doris and Ewan, and after a walk with the dog down by the canal I came up with this story. Hey, I'm English, we talk about the weather, it's a national pastime! Hope you like it.

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'Looks like it's going to be a windy night.' Lucien observed as he sat down with Jean for his nightly whisky.

'Certainly does.' she agreed as the wind howled round the house. 'It's a long time since we've had a gale like this. We lost the roof off one of the barns, once.' She carried on with her sewing.

Lucien turned the volume up on the radiogram to drown out some of the noise, and turned to the paper. He liked evenings like this. Charlie was out with Rose, he and Jean were engaged and hoping to marry soon, it was ordinary and restful and somehow, right. If he was lucky she'd put down her sewing and they could have a kiss and a cuddle before either Charlie came home or they went to bed, separately! The fire crackled in the studio grate and cast shadows around the room. Sure enough, Jean read his thoughts and decided that she didn't need to put anymore buttons on his shirt, she could finish them tomorrow, so she put her basket down and patted the space next to her. He raised an eyebrow, she smiled, coyly, it was a game they played. He folded the paper deliberately and placed it neatly on the arm of his chair, stood up, straightened his waistcoat and wandered over to her. He sat next to her and slid his hand along the back of the old chesterfield couch and rested it on her shoulder. She shifted closer and nestled into his chest. Lucien put his finger gently under her chin and tipped her face up so he could kiss her lips. A long, deep and passionate kiss followed, she allowed his hands to wander inside her blouse while hers undid his waistcoat and shirt and slid round his middle. Sometime later they parted, her blouse was undone, as was his shirt and they were both flushed. Jean giggled.

'Honestly, Lucien.' She smiled, 'we really must stop behaving like teenagers.'

'We could retire to my room.' He suggested, looking hopeful.

'Lucien, we said we'd wait.' She sighed, though she did wonder whether it would matter. The gossips had believed they'd been intimate ever since he'd returned from China, if not before, so even if they did sleep together nobody would be surprised. There again given her track record of getting pregnant the first time she had slept with Christopher on their wedding night and then as soon as they had resumed intimacy after Christopher junior was born, it probably would be wise to wait until they were married, just in case.

'Just wondering.' He smiled back, whatever she wanted was fine by him.

'Just hoping, you mean.' She leant in and kissed him again, then nestled back into her favourite spot.

She began to feel sleepy and thought she'd better say 'goodnight' before she actually dozed off where she was. She knew Lucien would not wake her and would probably carry her to bed when he'd finished feeling smug about having her asleep on his chest!

She pushed herself up and kissed him again.

'I'm going up to bed, Lucien, before I fall asleep here.' She pulled away.

'I don't mind you falling asleep here.' He pouted.

'Mmm...I bet you don't.' She kissed her finger then touched the tip of his nose with it. 'Goodnight, sweetheart.' She whispered.

Lucien stood up and took her in his arms, kissing her properly, 'Goodnight, my love.' He watched her leave the studio, wishing she didn't have such a sexy wiggle, it didn't do him any good at all!

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Jean lay in bed listening to the wind getting stronger, whistling and howling round the house. She could hear the hanging basket bang against the porch and wondered if it would still be there in the morning. She wished she hadn't thought about the barn roof, she was beginning to feel nervous about the house roof.

'Pull yourself together, Jean.' She scolded herself, 'the barn roof was old and held on more by luck than judgement.' But no matter what she told herself, she couldn't go to sleep. In the end she gave up. She put her robe on and pulled a blanket off her bed. With a bit of luck the fire in the studio would still be burning, she'd sleep on the couch in there. She had a brief thought that she could go to Lucien but was suddenly shy about needing him in the middle of the night. Downstairs all was quiet, she wasn't sure if Charlie had come home, perhaps he'd stayed over with Rose. The studio fire still had red embers in it, she pulled the guard away and put a small log on, waiting for it to catch before she put a bigger one on. It didn't take many minutes for the fire to be throwing out enough heat and she went and curled up under her blanket on the couch. She was soon fast asleep, the couch was surprisingly comfortable to sleep on.

Lucien slept on in his room, vaguely thinking he heard the fire being raked, but not waking enough to take any real notice. A crash, however, did wake him. Hoping it wasn't a roof tile he headed to the front door. He met Jean by the kitchen, which was odd, he should have met her at the bottom of the stairs.

'I'm just going to see what that was.' He told her, 'stay here.'

She waited and watched as he opened the front door. He didn't go out, it was the hanging basket, the pot had smashed in the porch. Fine, it could stay there, he'd sweep it up in the morning.

'Just the hanging basket.' He told her.

'Oh right.' She smiled, 'goodnight, again.' She turned and headed towards the studio.

'Where're you going?' He was perplexed, first she didn't come down the stairs and now she's heading to the studio.

'I couldn't sleep upstairs.' She admitted, looking a little shame-faced. 'The noise, I shouldn't have said anything about the barn roof, it...' she wanted to say the memory had unnerved her but didn't want to appear to be a wimp.

'So I did hear the fire being raked.' He went and held her hands. 'You could have come to me, if you were bothered about the storm.'

'I didn't want to disturb you.' She gave such a lame excuse, she thought. 'I'm fine in the studio, the couch is quite comfortable.' They were by the studio door now, and he opened the door for her.

'That fire looks most inviting.' He murmured. 'Mind if I warm up?'

Jean had a feeling they would spend the night in the same room, and that was alright, she thought. She just smiled and went back to the couch and curled up under her blanket. Lucien went and sat in his chair by the fire and smiled as he noticed she had fallen asleep almost immediately. He was content to watch her as she slept, she was almost childlike, her lashes bounced off her cheeks and her mouth was very slightly open. She shifted to lie on her side, facing him and the blanket slipped off. He went over and lifted it back over her, making sure it was caught and wouldn't slip again. As he did so he couldn't resist kissing her ever so softly on the cheek. She smiled and, without opening her eyes put her arms round his neck. He really wasn't sure if she was awake and toying with him, or not, so he decided to take a gamble. He put his arms round her and lifted her so he could lie down with her, her slight frame half lying on him and the blanket over the pair of them. He could get a proper tongue-lashing for this in the morning, but it would be worth it.

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Jean woke as the sun streamed through the windows. The wind had died down, the fire had gone out and a strong arm was round her waist! She moved her head to see if Lucien was awake also, he wasn't, that is to say, his eyes were closed, so he could be. She smiled, she was very comfortable where she was and was glad she had 'encouraged' him. She had been disturbed when her blanket had slipped off and felt Lucien kiss her as he covered her up. She remembered the thought that had entered her head, it went very much like;

'To hell with the gossips, I need a hug.'

She lay there waiting, for what, she wasn't sure. She knew she should make the effort to get up, but didn't want to wake him, if, indeed, he was asleep!

She wriggled just a little and settled her head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. She heard him gasp, just.

He had been lying there, waiting for her to push him off the couch and tell him off, not wriggle enticingly against him. He bit his lower lip hard, hoping he could tame his urges, and quickly!

She grinned, that would teach him. She moved her hands and did just what he expected, pushed him hard so he rolled off the couch and hit the floor.

'Ouch!' He pretended to be hurt but was secretly grateful, he had been on the point of losing control.

'Dr Blake!' She raised her voice, but only enough to sound annoyed. If Charlie had come home she did not want him to find the pair of them together, obviously having slept on the couch **together**!

'Jean, I...' God he was for it, now! His face was pink with embarrassment and his eyebrows had disappeared almost into his hairline.

She burst out laughing, she couldn't help it, he looked so funny. He reached up and grabbed her, pulling her down to him and kissed her hard. Then he slapped her rump, playfully and demanded his breakfast.

'Cheek!' She squealed and went quickly out of the studio before he could grab her again.

They met again in the kitchen. She was frying bacon and eggs as she usually did, nothing seemed untoward. If Charlie appeared he would see nothing unusual. He did appear but through the front door not down the stairs. He'd obviously been out all night.

'Morning, Charlie.' Lucien greeted him, 'long night?'

'Er, yes.' Charlie coloured, 'I decided to stay over, Rose didn't like the storm.' He hoped he sounded convincing, Matthew was in Bendigo for a few days on some police matter.

'Really?' Jean raised an eyebrow but decided it wasn't her place to comment on his and Rose's possible sleeping arrangements, she'd leave that to Matthew. Anyway, if she and Lucien did decide they weren't going to wait it would be a bit hypocritical of her. 'Bacon and eggs, or has Rose fed you?'

'I'm fine thanks, Mrs Beazley, I've eaten.' He said, 'I'll just go and change for work. By the way, did you know the hanging basket has broken?'

'Yes, it went very early this morning.' She replied, I'll sweep it up in a moment.'

Charlie went up to change and made a mental note to tell Rose he'd used her fear of the storm as an excuse for staying out all night. She hadn't been in the least bit afraid, in fact they'd barely noticed it!

Lucien cleared up the broken pot in the porch, he didn't want Jean to cut herself, at least that's what he told her.

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Surgery was due to start at ten, so they had time to look over the house and garden and look for any damage. The roof seemed to have survived, a great relief to Jean, she would be able to sleep in her own bed without worry. Some plant pots she kept in the garden had been blown about and broken, so between them they picked up the pieces and Jean looked to see if the plants could be re-potted. Some could so she took them to the sun room where she could leave them until she sorted out the spare pots. Lucien threw away the broken bits and then joined her in the kitchen to wash his hands.

'We seem to have been rather lucky.' He remarked as he dried his hands.

'We do.' She agreed, 'I wonder how everyone else has fared.'

'Mmm. No doubt I'll hear during surgery. I hope I don't get any calls to the morgue.' He looked at his watch. 'I'd better get ready, it's almost time for my first patient.'

Jean took off her apron and patted her hair into place, ready to greet the morning's patients. Lucien kissed her cheek before he went into his consulting room and patted her rear.

'Lucien.' She hissed, 'behave yourself.' But she smiled all the same.

A steady stream of patients meant they didn't get to talk until lunchtime. Many of the patients told of the roofs that had lost tiles, some trees had come down round the lake, apparently and plant pots had been blown around. So far there were no reports of anyone being hurt.

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With no patients for the afternoon and no calls to the morgue Lucien suggested a walk down by the lake. Jean agreed it would be nice, they had been so busy of late they hadn't had been able to spend time together during the daylight hours. They enjoyed their evenings but they did like to go for a stroll occasionally, arm in arm round the lake or into the gardens, just being together out and about was easier now they were engaged.

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I had planned this as a little mystery story for the good doctor to solve, so this is the light and fluffy bit to start with. Possibly a couple more chapters. Reviews and comments welcome as always.


	2. Chapter 2 A puzzle

Jean cleared away the lunch dishes and then went to get ready for a stroll with her love. In spite of the gales the previous day it was not cold, so she chose to put a light jacket on. It complemented the blue of her dress and she was lucky to have found the material while browsing in the sewing shop one day. Even though Lucien had offered to take her clothes shopping in Melbourne one weekend she had declined. She enjoyed sewing and was very good at it, some, those that were her close friends, told her you couldn't tell she made her own clothes, they looked so professionally finished.

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Lucien drove them down to the lake and parked up by the rowing club. Their usual route was from there to a large clump of trees where they had found a hidden spot for a quick kiss. At first Jean had been embarrassed, in case they were caught, but as time had gone on she enjoyed the 'danger'.

The closer to the trees they got, the more they could see the damage done by the high winds, at least two trees were down and one or two others were looking decidedly bent.

'It doesn't look safe, Lucien.' Jean said, sorrowfully, 'Those trees have really suffered.'

'You're right, we might have to find another 'snuggle spot'.' He agreed.

'It won't be the same.' She sighed, 'not leaning against the tree you climbed as a boy.'

He remembered the first time he had shown her that tree, she had been doubtful it was his tree, until he showed her where he had carved his initials in the trunk. Still there, grown out somewhat, but still visible. It was so far into the copse that there was no chance they would be found, unless boys were climbing trees, but as they went during school hours, it was unlikely.

They continued until they got to the trees, anyway. Looking around it was a mess, their tree was exposed so they would be seen. They walked further in and found another tree for Lucien to press Jean against and they resorted to being teenagers again, and again Jean wondered. She was looking forward to marrying him, sleeping next to him, making love, it had been so long, she thought it would almost be like the first time. Over the years since Christopher had died she had missed the intimacy, but no matter how the one or two 'gentlemen callers' she had had, had pressed her she could not bring herself to take that final step. It all seemed too casual, and casual sex was not for her.

A strong breeze started up and blew the hem of her dress up, just enough to expose her stocking tops. She giggled and pushed the skirt down. Lucien looked at her and smiled, hoping for a stronger breeze!

'Perhaps we'd better head home.' He said, wistfully, 'it looks like the wind is starting up again, and I don't like the look of those clouds.' He took her hand and led her out of the copse, skirting the fallen trees. She looked back and stopped. What was that? The breeze had shifted some leaves exposing what looked suspiciously like a hand.

'Lucien, wait.' She pulled his hand and pointed.

He moved past her and indicated she should stay back. Stepping into what was the top of the tree he moved aside branches and leaves to see the body of a young man, little more than a teenager. He put his fingers to the neck already sure he would not find a pulse, and he was right.

'Jean, go back to the rowing club. They have a phone. Call the police and the ambos.' He went over to her and kissed her forehead. She was pale and shivering. He took his coat off and draped it over her shoulders.

'Are you alright?'

'Yes.' She gave a wan smile, 'it's just a shock, that's all.' She returned the kiss on his cheek and went to do his bidding, holding the coat around her for his warmth.

She found the phone and even though there was no one around she called the station and spoke to Bill Hobart. Briefly informing him of what they had found, without saying why she and Dr Blake were in the copse, she listened to him tell Ned and Charlie to head over to the lake and said he would call the ambos. She put the phone down and headed back to Lucien. She could stay where she was but in spite of what she would see she wanted to be with him, not alone and wondering.

'They're on their way!' She called as she got closer to him.

He was squatting down looking at the body, having cleared away more of the foliage. It was not a pretty sight so he called back to her to stay away. The boy had a sharp branch through his torso which was what had probably killed him, but how had he got there? If the tree was upright he would be in the middle of the branches. He was not lying under a fallen tree, he was in it, as if he had been there when it had fallen. When the ambos got there he would need more than the body, he would need half the tree as well! It was a puzzle, for sure. He stood up and moved back to Jean, wiping his hands on his handkerchief.

'Lucien?' She touched his arm.

'Well, it's odd. It's almost as if he was in the tree when it fell, already speared on a branch.' Lucien ran his hand over his head, in that endearing way he had when he was faced with a puzzle.

'But how could that be?' She asked, equally, if not more, puzzled.

'At the moment, your guess is as good as mine.' Lucien mused. 'Anyway,' he changed the subject. 'When the boys get here I'm going to take you home and then I'll go on to the morgue.'

Jean sighed, 'Oh dear. I thought we'd have the evening together as Charlie's rostered on.' She was used to him being out at all hours and knew nothing would change but, still... Ah well, she'd finish her mending without distractions.

'Me too.' He smiled, 'I'll make it up to you.'

The sound of cars arriving disturbed them so they drew apart, quickly. Lucien directed operations before taking Jean back to the car and driving her home. As she got out of the car on the drive, Lucien pulled her back and kissed her.

'I don't know when I'll be home, if the wind gets up again and you don't want to sleep in your own room, use mine.' He smiled, not wanting it to sound like a lewd suggestion, 'I'll take the couch tonight.'

'I'll be fine.' She returned the kiss, thinking she would be playing with fire if she slept in his bed, tempting though it was. 'I'll leave something that can be heated up on the stove for you and Charlie.' She left the car and went inside, waving to him before she closed the door. She went upstairs and put her jacket away and turned to look at her bed. Somehow it was a lot less inviting than even the couch. Anyway, she had other things to do rather than thinking about where she might sleep tonight.

In the kitchen she thought about what she could make for a meal that she could eat and that would heat up easily for the men. She had planned a casserole, and if she carried on with that idea it would be easy enough for even Lucien to heat up a portion on the stove top. She turned on the radio to break the silence. She was used to being in the house on her own but today it seemed eerie. Perhaps it was the occasional whine of the wind blowing round the house.

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Lucien arrived at the morgue just as the ambos were unloading their curious cargo. They had managed to get almost all the tree top that the body was in, into the ambulance. They had to use two mortuary tables side by side to lie it on which made it difficult for Lucien and Alice to get round it. Before they started examining, Lucien took several sheets of paper and started making quick sketches of the scene. Alice was impressed at his artistic skills not knowing they were honed in the POW camp. Accurate and quite detailed, they showed all the vital information they would need when they had cut away the excess wood. Charlie brought a wood saw in to cut away the branches and soon all they had on the tables was a body with a branch through his torso.

'Lucien, I think this boy has been dead more than twenty four hours.' Alice looked closely at the body. Rigor had passed, the skin was discoloured beginning to decay. The doctor helped her turn the body over to reveal blow fly eggs round the mouth and in the eye sockets. The temperature was too low for them to hatch quickly, they could be anywhere between zero and six days old, but Lucien would have to check in his books to be sure. They cleared away the eggs, not wanting them to start hatching, and put them in sealed jars.

They set to work cleaning and examining the body properly. A male, about fifteen years old, well nourished, well dressed and healthy. Cause of death, a wooden branch through the torso, through the heart causing massive internal bleeding. Time of death, anytime in the last week. Neither could be absolutely sure.

They cleaned up and presented their findings to Matthew Lawson.

'So how did he get there, up in a tree?' Lawson asked, in his usual brusque manner. He didn't like loose ends, he wanted it all tied up neatly.

'Matthew, I just don't know.' Lucien sat in the chair opposite his old friend. 'It looks as if he was dropped onto the branch, but how, I don't know. As far as I know no small aircraft fly over the lake. In fact I don't think it's on a flight path at all. He's only a boy, someone must have missed him.'

'No, there were complaints it disturbed the peace so all planes fly away from it.' Matthew agreed. 'Go home, Blake, I'll get Ned to check for missing persons.' He continued. 'We'll look at it in the morning.' He was tired from his trip to Bendigo and his leg ached. He'd had a hard job convincing the powers that be that he was fit enough to return to duty as Superintendant of Ballarat Police and he wasn't going to give in without a fight, so being sensible about his working hours was the best way to deal with it.

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Jean had eaten her dinner, and tidied up, leaving enough in a saucepan for Lucien and Charlie when they came in. She'd finished the buttons on Lucien's shirt and repaired one of Charlie's uniform shirts, honestly they were as bad as each other. She was sure Charlie was turning into a young Lucien when it came to tearing his clothes. She decided to have a bath and change into her nightwear, then have her evening sherry. Perhaps one of them would be back by then to keep her company. She knew who she hoped it would be. She'd lit the fire in the studio; it would be burning nicely when she came down after her bath.

She had finished her bath and was sitting in her bedroom brushing her hair before she went downstairs. The wind was gusting round the house and rattling her window which she habitually left ajar. She thought she'd better close it properly, it would only cause a draft when she was in bed. She chose the wrong moment. As she lifted the latch bar the wind whipped the window out of her hand and off its hinges, flinging it against the garage roof and smashing it into pieces.

'Oh!' She screamed, jumping back and staring aghast at the hole that was once her window. Now what? The window would have to be blocked up for now, but she didn't fancy going out into the shed to find a piece of wood and the hammer and nails in the current weather. However, there was no one else around and she had no idea when either of the men would return. Damn! It would appear she had no choice. She went downstairs and put her coat on over her robe and nightdress. She grabbed a torch and, slipping into her gardening shoes in the sun room, she took a deep breath and the advantage of a short lull in the wind and ran across to the shed. It took her a few moments, but even Jean's shed was tidy, before she found a piece of old cupboard that Thomas had thrown out. It looked to be about the right size to cover the gap, she grabbed the hammer and a handful of nails and waited a moment before there was another break in the wind before she ran back to the house.

Jean was grateful for those years running the farm. She had learnt a lot about make do and mend and, although it had irked her they didn't have enough money to have someone do those jobs, she now saw how useful those lessons were.

She kicked off her shoes and went quickly into the kitchen, colliding with Lucien who was just coming to find her, having come in through the front door as she had gone out through the back.

'Oh! Lucien, you're back!' She smiled.

'Jean, what on earth are you doing?' He was holding her elbows to stop her falling as they crashed together.

'My bedroom window is out. The wind caught it.' She had a look on her face that asked 'isn't it obvious?' 'I need to block it out. The draft will keep me awake.' She tried to move round him.

'Let me at least help.' He let go, took the piece of wood off her and followed her up to her room. Inside it the wind was blowing the curtains around and it was cold.

'What do you want me to do?' He asked, not being the practical one, and it seemed to him, in that instant, he should be a little embarrassed at his lack of carpentry skills.

'Well, if you hold the wood over the hole I'll put the nails through.' She figured it would be easier for Lucien to use his weight to hold the wood in place while she positioned the nails.

'Sure you don't want me to do the hammering?' He asked.

'No thanks.' She wasn't sure he wouldn't spend more time hitting his fingers than the nails.

It took some minutes before the job was done and Lucien was impressed at her, she was a constant source of wonder to him, and he told her so.

'You get used to it, living on a farm and scraping a living.' She smiled.

He put his arms round her and held her close, determining she would never again know a life where she had to make do and mend. He breathed in her scent, cold air and the clean smell of soap after her bath. Kissing the top of her head he suggested, again, she sleep in his room. Her room was cold and dark.

'I'll give you ten out of ten for persistence, my dear.' She smiled, her room was cold, and it was tempting, but even if she eventually gave in she was going to make him work for it. 'The fire is lit in the studio, I'll be warm enough in there.' Lucien rolled his eyes, the woman was infuriating sometimes, he only wanted to be sure she was warm and secure. She changed the subject, 'Shall I heat up some stew for you? You must be hungry.' Then, breaking all her rules about eating only in the kitchen or dining room, 'I'll even let you eat off a tray in the studio, if you like.'

He smiled and agreed that would be nice,

'Do I have time for a quick shower?'

'Surely, I'll see you in the studio,' and she was off downstairs.

He showered and changed into his pyjamas and robe and met her in the studio. A delicious bowl of 'all in one' stew was on a tray on the small side table by his chair with a glass of whisky. Jean was on the couch, her feet tucked under her and a blanket over her lower half. She looked adorable, her hair was tousled and her eyes sparkled in the firelight. He ate his meal and took the tray out to the kitchen. She could just hear him washing up his bowl and spoon and smiled that he would bother, but he knew that if he didn't, she would, because all pots were washed before she retired for the night.

He returned to the studio, she hadn't moved but as he entered they started their little game again; her patting the space beside her, he raising his eyebrow, and she smiling, coyly.

'Did you work out your puzzle?' She asked as he pulled her against his chest.

'We know the cause of death, but not how he got into the tree.' He swirled the whisky round the glass, 'he's been dead more than a day, so he's been in the tree since before the gales.'

'Climbing?' She asked.

'Don't think so, he fell with more force than that.' He mused.

'Oh.' She sat deep in thought, then decided that they could deal with that in the morning. She lifted her face to him, a sultry smile on her sweet face. He gave in to the silent invitation and they spent some time kissing and touching. Lucien was surprised to find she was wearing a nightdress, which meant he couldn't slip his hand inside her pyjama top. Not fair, he thought, she had her hands inside his! His hand moved inside her robe and over her shoulder, encountering the fine strap of her nightdress which he found easy to slip down the top of her arm, meaning he could slip his hand over her breast. She gasped at his light touch causing him to stop and pull away from the kiss to look into her eyes. He needed her permission to continue. He eyes were bright and as she gazed into his she relaxed. That was all the permission he needed but vowed he would go no further, but he did wonder why she had chosen a nightdress for a change, still, best not ask.

The fire began to die down and the room became slightly cooler. Jean had her head on Lucien's chest and her eyes were threatening to close. If she didn't move they would end up where they ended up the previous night, and really there wasn't enough room on the couch, cosy as it had been. She felt him kiss the top of her head, it was one of those endearing little acts of his that made her feel so safe. She looked up at him, so gentle, so...oh what was the word she was searching for?

'Come on, I insist.' He stood up and pulled her into his arms. 'My bed, I promise I won't do anything you don't want me to. Trust me.'

As he looked at her she knew that she wanted to spend the night with him, the trouble was not that she didn't trust him, she didn't trust herself!

'Lucien, what if Charlie finds out?' What other excuse could she give?

'I'm not going to tell him, are you?' He smiled, almost cheekily.

It was no good, she gave in,

'...but only to sleep.' She warned him, crossing her fingers behind her back.

'Want to put a pillow down the middle?' He suggested.

She slapped his shoulder playfully and grinned, 'I don't think that will be necessary, do you?'

He was glad she thought that, it meant he could at least hold her.

Lucien let her get into bed first, waiting outside the door until she called him. He hung his robe over hers on the back of the door and went round to the other side of the bed, slipping under the covers and turning on his side to face her. He could be happy like this for the night, just hearing her breath and snuffle in her sleep. She lay the same, on her side looking at him. He reached over and moved a curl off her cheek, so soft. She tipped her face and kissed his fingers. She wriggled a little closer, daring herself to put her head on his chest as she had done when they were on the couch together. She knew she wasn't being fair but when he was near her she wanted the physical contact, that closeness she had missed for so long. Lucien seemed to sense her thoughts, and made the decision for her. He reached and pulled her to him, so her head was where she wanted it to be and she responded by laying her arm over him. Gradually relaxing, knowing he wasn't going to go any further, she fell into a deep sleep, deeper than she had for years. Lucien smiled and closed his eyes, knowing his sleep would be deep and trouble free for the first time since he had returned to Ballarat.

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Better get back to the matter of the boy in the tree!


	3. Chapter 3 Flight

Lucien yawned and stretched, the space beside him in the bed was now empty and if it wasn't for the dent in the pillow he could almost imagine he had dreamt having Jean beside him in bed last night. There was a faint lingering echo of her scent; soap, her unique clean smell. He smiled, knowing she had risen as usual at the crack of dawn and probably crept up the stairs to bathe and dress for the day.

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Jean was smiling to herself as she made breakfast. Sleeping in Lucien's bed, with him beside her had been what it should have been, loving without any expectations. She thought she'd be more than happy to repeat the experience and maybe, just maybe, go 'all the way'! Lucien, she knew, would let her set the pace for their relationship, as he had done so far. As she mused over the frying pan two strong arms wound themselves round her waist and a soft kiss was planted on the back of her neck. She smiled again.

'Morning, beautiful.' He breathed into her ear.

'Good morning to you too, sweetheart.' She turned her head to kiss his cheek.

Footsteps on the stairs broke them apart as Charlie came down for breakfast.

'Morning, Charlie.' Lucien started to set the table, 'you were back late.'

'Lucien,' Jean scolded, 'you're not his father!'

'S'ok, Mrs Beazley.' Charlie grinned, 'I was helping Ned look into missing persons. We've got a likely name for the boy.'

'Really?' Lucien sat down and took a drink of orange juice.

'Yeah, a lad by the name of James Storey, went missing three days ago.' Charlie sat down, 'out with his mates and some kites.'

Jean put their breakfast in front of them and got hers, then sat down. 'Wasn't it a bit too windy for kites?' She asked.

'Just a bit.' Charlie agreed, 'Ned's going to pick up the other boys this morning, we'll have a chat with them, then.' He tucked into his bacon and eggs.

'Who's informing his parents?' Lucien asked. 'We need formal identification of the body.'

'The boss.' Charlie took his plate to the sink, 'he'll let you and Dr Harvey know when they'll be coming in to view.'

Jean shuddered, it always unnerved her, the thought of having to identify the body of a loved one. She must have a word with Lucien about being a little more careful in future.

Lucien passed her on his way to the sink and squeezed her shoulder.

'Leave those, I'll do them.' She brought herself back to the present, 'you two have work to do, and Lucien, you have surgery at ten this morning.'

'Right.' He thought about asking her if she wanted him to do anything about her bedroom window, then thought better of it. Charlie might wonder where she had slept last night and he knew she wouldn't want him to know.

Jean washed the dishes and thought about what she had to do that day. There was some laundry that needed doing so she decided to get the washer going first. She could leave that to run its cycle while she tidied round. The fire needed raking out in the studio, and she could do with running the vacuum cleaner over the floors. If she was quick she could get it done before surgery and dust as well. She must remember to ring the glazier and see when she could have the window repaired.

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The last place she had to see to was Lucien's bedroom. Pushing the door open she surveyed the room. The bed was unmade, so she set to, shaking the pillows, smoothing the sheets and blankets, automatic movements while she thought over the previous night. It felt like such a precious memory and she would hold it 'til the day she died. The first time she had shared a bed with the man who was the love of her life. A sweet and simple memory, and hers, hers alone. Lucien would remember it differently, of that she was sure, but she hoped it meant as much to him.

With the washing on the line, she just had time to make her and Lucien a cup of tea before surgery started. She called him through to the kitchen as she poured the boiling water into the pot. He sauntered through, hands in pockets, not a care in the world, whistling softly. She looked up at him and smiled, it seemed an easier familiarity had descended on them.

'I'll ring to see if I can get my window fixed, while you're holding surgery.' She sipped her tea and watched for his reaction.

'No rush, is there?' He blew across his cup.

'I can't leave it like that forever, someone will notice, it's at the front of the house.' She noted.

'You won't have an excuse to keep me company.' He looked hopeful, like a little boy who was asking for sweets.

She thought about how to follow that. She didn't think she needed an excuse, did she?

'Mmm...there is that.' She said, thoughtfully.

'Of course, for me you don't need an excuse, you know that.' He raised his eyebrows. '...but it is up to you. It's just that it felt so right, having you there, last night.'

She smiled, she knew what he meant. However, she was worried she wasn't being fair to him and in all honesty she wanted more than to be held at night. She wanted him to touch her more intimately, she wanted to be everything to him. She thought too much, she knew that, she could tie herself in knots, thinking, she rarely acted on impulse, maybe she should this time. Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door, the first patient had arrived and here they were thinking about 'misbehaving'! Well she was, anyway.

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Agnes Clasby was the last patient and it was her that remarked on the window.

'Yes, the wind caught it as I was shutting it.' Jean told her, colouring slightly.

'That must make the room cold, dear.' Agnes noted in reply.

'It does, rather.' Jean didn't like the way the conversation was going, Agnes was way too perceptive, but she was one of Lucien's oldest friends and if she guessed Jean hoped she would be discreet. 'I've rung the glazier, it'll be three days before he can get here.' Jean hoped she looked disappointed, but she wasn't, really!

'Oh dear.' Lucien had wandered through and heard the conversation, also not liking where it was going, more for Jean's sake than his. 'Will you be alright until then?'

'Lucien!' Agnes seemed horrified, 'you didn't make Jean sleep in a room with a missing window?'

Jean went scarlet, Lucien had to good grace to look embarrassed too. Agnes took their faces to mean he had.

'Really, Lucien, I thought better of you. Jean surely there's another room you could have used?' This only served to make them both seem even more embarrassed which confused Agnes no end.

'I'll just go and finish my notes.' Lucien tried to beat a hasty retreat but Jean's face told him that if he did she would sleep elsewhere, like Mattie's room or the guest room, both of which she could have used the nights before.

'Of course I didn't, Agnes.' Lucien tried to sound placatory, 'Jean slept in a warm bed in a bedroom with a window.'

'So why the red faces?' Agnes wasn't going to let this one go. She was very fond of the two of them, and hated the way the gossips sniped and pursed their lips about them living in the same house.

Jean was never happier to hear the phone ring in her life!

'I'll get it!' She trilled, and almost ran to the kitchen phone.

'Dr Blake's surgery.' She smiled as she listened to the caller, 'yes, Matthew, I'll tell him. He'll be right there.'

She put the phone down and went back to Lucien, 'That was the Superintendant. Mr and Mrs Storey will be going to identify the body in half an hour, Lucien.' She smiled, 'He'd like you to in the morgue with Dr Harvey when they do.'

'Right,' his face showed his relief, too, 'I'd better go then. Can I give you a lift, Agnes?' He was just being polite, Agnes usually drove herself.

'No, Lucien, thank you.' She looked at each of them and knew she was going to get no more out of them and took her leave.

'Phew!' Jean leant against the wall, 'do you think she guessed?'

Lucien wrapped his arms round her, 'Probably, but Agnes won't tell.' He kissed her head, 'she's seem something of life.'

'Mmm...I expect you're right.' She kissed his cheek, 'you'd better head off. I'll see you later, home for dinner?'

'Should be. I'll ring if I'm going to be late.' He put his coat and hat on and kissed her goodbye, just because it seemed like the right thing to do. She smiled and returned the kiss, then waved him off.

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Lucien strode down the corridor to the morgue but paused just outside the door; straightening his waistcoat and taking a deep breath he pushed the door open.

'Dr Harvey, good afternoon.' He greeted his colleague, politely.

'Good afternoon, Dr Blake.' She replied, 'this is Mr and Mrs Storey. They've come to identify the body.' She introduced a middle aged couple, well dressed but tired looking. Lucien felt a surge of sympathy for them, losing a child was the worst loss. He nodded then turned to Alice,

'Dr Harvey, would you?' He indicated she should pull the trolley out of the fridge and then nodded as she wordlessly asked if she should fold back the sheet.

They had made the young man look as if he was asleep, at peace. Mrs Storey gasped and put her hand to her mouth, her eyes filled with tears as her husband nodded,

'That's James.' He put his arm round his wife, 'his mates called him Jimmy. How did it happen?'

'As yet we are uncertain.' Lucien said clearly but quietly, 'but we will do our best to find out. We are so sorry.'

The grieving couple thanked Lucien and Alice and headed out of the morgue. Mrs Storey turned as she went through the door,

'Thank you, again, both of you, for your care and kindness.' She joined her husband and they disappeared from view.

'I hate that.' Alice said as she wheeled James back into his dark domain, 'being thanked. All we do is take their loved one apart and try to make them look good afterwards. Nothing to be thanked for.'

Lucien looked at her, she wasn't usually so emotional. 'Are you ok, Alice?' He asked.

'Yes, I'm fine, it's just such a waste of a young life.' Alice turned and completed the paperwork, naming the deceased.

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Jean brought the washing in off the line, folding it ready for ironing. She was still thinking about all that had happened over the last twenty four hours. She really must stop over analysing things. She had shared a bed with Lucien, ok, but nothing had happened. Did she want something to happen? She did and she didn't. First the chance of getting pregnant, she felt, was still quite high. Two live births with Christopher and quickly too, followed by three stillborn girls, early births, heartbreaking and never forgotten. She and Christopher had mourned and decided they would not take the chance of her conceiving again but it was Christopher who had ensured it. He was a less committed Catholic, more concerned with his wife's health than the teachings of the church.

She could, of course take steps to ensure it would not happen, but she still believed that everything happened for a reason, and a little part of her would like to give Lucien a son. Of course there was her strict upbringing and artificial contraception was against the church's teachings. She sat with a cup of tea, staring into space.

'Jean,' she told herself, 'you are doing yourself no good, this deep thinking has got to stop.' She continued giving herself a good talking to, 'you love him, he loves you, right. You are happy in his arms, you slept well, without guilt. And that's another thing, girl, you have nothing to be guilty about, nothing happened. You are going to marry him very soon. Oh alright, you haven't set a date, but, for heaven's sake woman, who on earth is going to know? Right, Charlie. He won't talk, he's more than likely sleeping with Rose, so he's got no room to talk.' She heaved a huge sigh. 'Get a grip, Jean. If he wants you as much as you want him, why not let love take its course.' She put her, now cold, cup of tea down, stood up and decided to take charge of her life. She was going to share a bed with Lucien, assuming he wanted her to, and she was sure he did, and if it happened it happened, she wasn't going to stop him.

She put all musings of her love life to one side and got on with preparing the evening meal. She hummed along to the radio as she cooked, chopped and stirred. Somehow the good talking to she'd given herself lightened her mood. Dinner on the go she turned her attention to the ironing, finishing that in double quick time. All her household tasks flew by when she was in a happy mood and this afternoon she was particularly happy.

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Lucien went to see Matthew and confirmed the body was that of James Story, last seen flying kites with his friends. James' friends were due to come in to the station and give statements as to what they did and when they last saw James. Lucien said he'd stay and see what they had to say.

The boys, three of them, all around James' age appeared with their parents precisely at two o'clock. They all looked shame faced, prodded by their parents to stand up and take responsibility for their actions.

Matthew looked at the group, what a sorry sight, he thought.

'Right, lads,' he said, gently, 'we need to find out what happened to your mate. So we're going to ask you some questions and we want truthful answers. The doctor here,' he pointed to Blake, 'has had to examine his body and it made him rather disappointed.' For some reason, unknown even to himself, Matthew didn't want to scare the boys into lying, they looked harmless enough.

The boys gulped but nodded.

Matthew decided to interview them together, it seemed to him they had done nothing wrong, just been having fun. He had an awful feeling James was the author of his own destiny.

Lucien joined Matthew and Charlie in the interview room. The boys sat on one side of the table, heads bowed, nervous. Lucien looked at them and then at the Superintendant. Matthew nodded, imperceptibly, indicating the doctor could speak.

'Well, lads,' he smiled, 'it's been some years since I last flew a kite, but if I recall correctly it was invigorating.'

There was a pause then,

'Yes, sir, it's amazing, especially when the wind is strong. It almost feels like it could lift you off the ground.' One lad spoke, his eyes brightened, alive with happiness, then just as quickly, dimmed with sorrow.

'Is that how Jimmy felt?' Matthew asked, trying to draw on Lucien's opening gambit.

'Oh yes, sir.' The same boy spoke, it seemed he was the leader of the gang, 'he said he'd like to fly like that, on the wind.'

'Did he do anything about it?' Lucien had an awful feeling.

'Honestly, sir, we don't know.' The boy said, 'we all went home afterwards. Jimmy said he was going home, he had an idea.'

'Sir...' one of the other boys spoke up, 'Jimmy had a shed at home. His mum and dad said he could do his mucking about in there, not in the house.'

'What kind of 'mucking about'?' Charlie asked.

'Well, he liked airplanes, he said he wanted to be a pilot.' The boy mused, trying to put into words the things he had seen his friend do. 'He said that we should be able to use the wind to fly, not just rely on engine power.'

'What did he do?' Lucien was intrigued and at the same time extremely worried.

'He drew a lot. His ideas are all on paper in his shed.' The boy said, his eyes wide.

Lucien drew Matthew and Charlie aside,

'We need to see inside the shed.' He urged.

'Right.' Matthew said and dismissed the boys, telling them they would be called back if necessary.

James' parents were only too happy to show the police and Lucien the shed, providing them with tea and biscuits, not realising that their son had possibly caused his own downfall, through a deep interest and need to seek out the mysteries of flight and a lack of parental interest.

The inside of the shed was fascinating. There were drawings pinned up on the walls showing human figures hanging below a kite like structure, very much like a hang glider, models hanging from the ceiling all indicating an attempt for wind powered flight. But, thought Lucien, hang gliders need to be launched from a high point where they could catch the wind. James' ideas stemmed from using a kite, albeit a very large one, and running until the wind lifted it, carrying its passenger. The winds had been very high recently, Matthew had an awful feeling, the same one Lucien had, that James had tried it.

'We need to search the opposite side of the lake, Matthew.' Lucien pulled him aside, so Mr and Mrs Storey couldn't hear. 'I bet we'll find the kite there, if it's not in the lake.'

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What will Lucien and co find? What will Jean do and what will be the consequences? Read on dear reader, please!

I apologise for the 'stillbirth' line, it is based on my dear ma in law who lost five girls, but was able to carry two boys to term and a dear friend who said her husband only had to hang his trousers on the bedpost!


	4. Chapter 4 An awfully big adventure

Thank you for the lovely reviews, they have been most encouraging. This is the last full chapter of this story and I hope it lives up to expectations. Although I do think it might need an epilogue.

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Lucien arranged with Matthew to meet him and a search team down at the lake the following morning. They wanted to have as much time as possible to work out what young James had done, see if they could find his kite and possibly where he had launched from. They looked over a map of the area and marked areas they thought would be the best places to search, and discussed the weather of three days before.

The usual hum of the office carried on in the background, phones being answered then Bill Hobart was heard speaking to Mrs Beazley.

'Yes he's here, Mrs Beazley.' Bill grunted, 'do you want to talk to him?' A pause while he listened to the answer, then he leaned back towards the doctor and tapped his shoulder. 'Mrs Beazley for you, doc.' Lucien got up and went to take the call. He listened, watched by the men. 'Right, I'll be right there.' Such a non committal comment.

'Matthew, I'll see you at the lake in the morning, I have a patient waiting.' Lucien took his coat and hat off the stand and headed out of the door, not waiting for a reply. He was intrigued by Jean's call, Mr and Mrs Storey weren't on his list but apparently they were at the house asking to see him.

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Jean was just about to put the ironing away and make herself another cup of tea when there was a knock at the door. She put the pile of laundry back on the kitchen table and went to see who it could be. They had no patients booked for the afternoon and Lucien would have his key with him.

She didn't know the couple in front of her well, but knew who they were.

'Mr and Mrs Storey, what can I do for you?' She asked politely.

'Is Dr Blake in?' Mr Storey spoke for them both, his wife looked tearful and Jean realised it was their son Charlie had spoken about.

'Come in.' She stood aside. 'He's still down at the station, but I'll ring and see if he can come and see you.' She showed them into the waiting room and went to phone from the study.

'He's on his way.' She went back to them, 'would you like some tea while you wait, the kettle is on.'

'That's very kind of you, if it's no trouble.' Again Mr Storey spoke for them while his wife twisted her handkerchief in her hands.

'No trouble at all.' Jean smiled gently and left them.

Jean set up a tray and took it into the waiting room. She had just poured their tea when she hear Lucien come in through the front door.

'Jean!' He called through.

She went out to him, rather than shouting through the house, 'They're in the waiting room. I've made them some tea and there's some for you.' Lucien gave her a quick peck on the cheek and headed through.

Mr Storey looked up as the doctor entered the room. He stood and apologised for bothering him but he had been so kind in the morgue.

'It's no bother at all, if I can help I will.' Lucien smiled his most charming smile and sat facing them. 'What can I do for you?'

'We were looking through his room. My wife wanted him to look his best for the funeral. I found this under his pillow.' Mr Storey held out a small exercise book, labelled, 'James' ideas for wind powered flight.'

Mrs Storey sniffed into her handkerchief, Lucien looked at her, he might offer her something to help her sleep after he'd dealt with Mr Storey's information, but for now,

'Mrs Storey, would you like to go and sit with Mrs Beazley, if this is too much for you?' He leant forward and gently touched her hand. She looked up, grateful for his concern.

'If she wouldn't mind.' she whispered.

Lucien got up and went out into the kitchen where he knew he would find Jean.

'Jean,' she looked up from the vegetables she was preparing.

'Yes, Lucien.' She smiled, his face was like an open book sometimes. She paused, as if reading his thoughts, but waited for him to speak.

'Would it be alright if Mrs Storey sat with you, while I talk to her husband?' He spoke quietly, 'she's finding it difficult to listen to what he has to say.'

'Of course.' Jean stood up and went to wash her hands, 'show her through to the sitting room, the veggies can wait.'

'Thank you.' He kissed her as she passed him, she smiled, she liked how their one night together, doing nothing, she kept reminding herself, had changed how he was with her.

Lucien escorted the grieving woman through and left her with Jean. They sat in silence for some minutes, until Jean spoke,

'I'm sorry to hear about James.' She offered her sympathy.

'He was our only child.' Mrs Storey murmured. 'I had trouble keeping my babies.'

Jean felt the pain of miscarriage all over again. It was not something she had dwelt on for many years, but circumstances had brought it to the forefront of her mind recently. She thought it might help this woman if she shared it.

'I understand. I lost as well.' Jean's voice was soft.

'Did you..?' Mrs Storey wanted to know if Jean had managed to have any survive.

'I have two boys. I lost girls after they were born.' Jean felt a tear start at the corner of her eye, she blinked it away. This was not her time to grieve.

Mrs Storey looked at her. She had heard the stories about the doctor's housekeeper but didn't know her and had not felt she could judge her. She judged her now. Judged her to be one of the sweetest people she could ever wish to meet and when she heard the stories again would tell the gossips to find something else to talk about, they knew nothing. She could not imagine anything bad about her, and was not concerned with a grown woman's bedroom habits. The doctor too, was kind and gentle, perhaps they should change their GP.

'James was so adventurous, even as a little one.' Mrs Storey felt easier talking about him with this kind and gentle woman.

'My two were like that. I raised them on a farm so they were always getting into scrapes.' Jean smiled as she remembered the torn knees and elbows, Jack's need to jump off anything that was high enough to satisfy his daredevil streak, even the barn roof! He was lucky not to break anything.

'And now?' Mrs Storey asked.

'Christopher is in the army, he has a little girl; Jack, well Jack's a bit of a rebel...' Jean knew he was well but Christopher didn't say where he was at the moment.

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Lucien and Mr Storey poured over the journal. James had done detailed drawings of kites, large enough to, he hoped, support his weight. Intricate designs of them, how they would be put together, how he would carry them. Ideas as to how he could get airborne, it was all there, including where he thought he would have enough space to get the speed to catch the wind. He'd chosen to use his bicycle, get up speed, stand up on the pedals and raise the kite over his head. Lucien now knew where they should search, but he did admit to Mr Storey that he was very surprised that James would have been able to achieve lift off. However, the winds had been very high the day he went missing, so maybe...

He told Mr Storey that the search was beginning the following morning and if he left his phone number with Mrs Beazley they would contact them with the results.

They went to find his wife, who was looking considerably calmer after time with Jean. As they left Mrs Storey turned to the two of them,

'Thank you for your kindness and for listening.' Mrs Storey said, looking directly at Jean, then turning to Lucien, 'Dr Blake, you have been so kind and helpful, we are most grateful.' She held out her hand. Lucien shook it gently.

Jean closed the door and turned to go back into the kitchen. Lucien was still standing there.

'Are you alright, Jean?' He took her hands, 'you look upset.'

'It's nothing, Lucien, just memories.' She smiled wistfully at him. She moved to walk away.

'You can talk to me, you know.' He kept hold of her hand, the way she wished he had done that day in the garden after the Webster case.

She looked at him, she didn't feel quite ready to share that particular pain with him, just yet. At least, she told herself, not while she had chores to complete. She knew it wouldn't be long before she spilled the hurt. He knew so much about her, they had shared their worries, memories and pain a lot since they had become engaged. Each had needed to tell the other things about themselves they had never told anyone else, about their first marriages, their hopes and dreams, but this was one thing she had never shared with him. and, as he wasn't her GP, he couldn't check her file. She stood on tiptoe and kissed his lips, lightly and swiftly before pulling away to go and finish the vegetables. He watched her go, sadly, feeling an ache that could only be lifted when she confided in him what this particular problem was.

Jean finished preparing the vegetables, occasionally brushing away a tear, cross with herself for lingering on the memory of the hurt as each of her little girls drew their one and only breath, the plaintive cry as they were born far too early, and died in the midwife's hands. Leaving the maternity ward with nothing to show for the pain of labour and told to try again, until the third time when it had been suggested she didn't. No counselling, nobody to talk her through her grief, just the grind of the farm, looking after two wild boys and trying to make ends meet. She took the colander to the sink to rinse the last of the dirt of the potatoes and carrots and allowed herself to cry just a little bit harder, the sniffs hidden by the sound of running water. She didn't hear Lucien come up behind her, he could see her shoulders shaking and he knew she was crying. He put his arms round her and turned her to face him. Looking into her tear-streaked face his heart broke. He pulled her close and let her sob into his chest until she could compose herself.

'I'm sorry, Lucien.' She wiped her nose and tears, 'some memories are more painful than others.'

'Do you want to talk?' He felt that he couldn't push her on whatever it was, but he could be patient.

'You should know, as we are to be married.' She knew that if she did conceive his child he should be made aware she would be terrified of losing it.

'Only if you want to tell me.'

'Honestly, Lucien.' She looked up into his oh so gentle blue eyes, 'it would have stayed hidden if Mrs Storey hadn't mentioned a similar memory.'

He raised an eyebrow, and then decided that standing by the kitchen sink was no place to have a heart to heart. He drew her into the living room and they sat down on the couch.

'You've never asked why I only have the two boys.' She moved close enough for him to put his arm round her.

'It's not my place to ask, but as they are so close in age, I did wonder.' He kissed the top of her head, tenderly.

'I got pregnant easily. Christopher, on my wedding night, Jack, as soon as we resumed intimacy after Christopher.' Her husband had been rather smug with himself, getting his young wife pregnant so easily, and he took all the credit of course. 'I love my boys, Lucien, but it would have been nice to have a daughter.' She paused, this was the hardest part. 'It would appear I can't carry girls. I...' She took a deep breath, 'I got pregnant three times more, each time my girls were born too early to survive. They all took a breath, I can still hear their pathetic cries, one each, and died in the midwife's hands. I was eventually told not to try again and Christopher went to ,' she made a scissor sign with her hands, going slightly pink as she did so. 'He said I'd been through enough, he'd take that one.'

Lucien sat and listened, he didn't interrupt, she had to tell him everything in one go. Once she had finished he pulled her close and held her in a loving hug.

'Lucien, I know it's unlikely, but if...' She wanted to tell him she was willing to risk another pregnancy just to give him a son.

'Jean,' he knew what she wanted to tell him, 'I don't want you to go through anything like that again.' He thought for a moment, 'is that why you want to wait, apart from the gossip, I mean. Because we can take precautions, you know.'

She looked up and smiled at him, the dear, sweet man.

'Err...' Oh why was talking about this aspect of a relationship so embarrassing, after all it was a perfectly natural act, 'I'd rather not. Christopher and I tried them, but it didn't feel right, emotionally I mean. I'd rather take my chances, if that's alright with you.' She smiled, he smiled, they giggled, it sounded like they were ordering a new kitchen appliance, not talking about being intimate, making love.

'Oh, Jean.' Lucien sighed, 'I do love you.'

She lifted her head and let him kiss her, deeply and passionately.

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Dinner over and the dishes washed, Charlie excused himself, saying he was taking Rose to the pictures.

'Enjoy yourselves.' Lucien called cheerily from the studio where he was lighting the fire. Jean wandered in smiling, carrying her sherry and his whisky, no mending tonight and she hadn't started knitting anything for Amelia so he had her all to himself. He grinned at her as she nodded her head in the direction of the couch. They sat together watching the flames lick the wood and the shadows on the walls. Lucien put his arm round Jean and nuzzled his face into her hair. A faint citrus scent from her shampoo lingered, she felt fragile in his arms. He took her empty glass of her and turned her to face him. She reached her hand round his head, tangling her fingers in his hair and gave herself up to his kisses and touches, his fingers expertly undoing the buttons of her blouse, hers loosening his tie then opening his shirt the better to kiss his collarbone. He'd just managed to get his hand under her skirt when the phone rang!

'Damn!' He cursed as he left the couch to answer it. She heard him bark down the phone,

'Blake!' then a pause. 'Right, Matthew I won't be long.' He put the phone down and looked across to see Jean standing in the doorway of the studio, buttons still undone, curls awry. God she looked gorgeous! She smiled, she was used to the phone ringing at all times of the day and night but it was only the second time they had been disturbed like that.

'Sorry, sweetheart.' He held out his arms to her, 'body at the lake.' She went to him and kissed his lips.

'Better smarten yourself up, then,' she giggled. He would never hear the last of it from Matthew if he went out like that. His hair was sticking up, his tie was off and his shirt and waistcoat were undone, and there were lipstick smudges on his face and neck.

Five minutes later, looking like a doctor, hat and coat on, bag in hand she waved him off from the front door. She turned and stood looking down the hall. Shrugging her shoulders and smiling to herself she went to the studio and collected the glasses. She had no idea when he would be back so she thought she'd have a bath and get ready for bed.

She lay in the warm water thinking, again. She knew she was right to tell Lucien her worst memory, but she did wonder if it would have any effect on how he loved her. So far, if that evening in the studio was anything to go by, no. She had laid bare her soul, it seemed to her, now was the time to start making new memories, no more looking back.

She got out of the now tepid bath and towelled herself dry. She smiled a wicked smile as she imagined Lucien towelling her down after a bath, or even her towelling down Lucien. Behave, Jean.

She dressed in a nightdress and robe in her own room. She ran her fingers through her hair and wondered if it would be too forward to take her hairbrush and makeup down to his room, along with her clothes for the following day. She thought, but not for too long. Hairbrush and makeup, yes. Clothes, no, she'd have to go upstairs to wash and dress, there was no point.

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Lucien and Alice performed an autopsy of the man found at the lake, that had interrupted his evening with Jean. Aged about fifty he appeared to have drowned after falling and hitting his head on a large stone at the edge of the water. There were no other injuries and no signs of a fight. His wallet still contained some cash so he hadn't been robbed. His name and address were written on the inside and Bill was sent to do the job of informing his family.

'Well, Matthew.' Lucien put the report on the desk, 'an unfortunate accident.'

'So it would seem.' Matthew agreed, 'well, I suppose you can head off home then, unless there's anything else?'

'No, that's all there is.' Lucien stood up and went to retrieve his things, then he turned round and looked at Matthew. 'Everything alright, Matthew?'

'Yes, fine, why?' Matthew looked surprised at the question.

'You looked like you have something on your mind.' Lucien wondered if he had problems with Rose and Charlie.

'No, nothing, goodnight.' Matthew turned back to read the report, Lucien recognised the dismissal and left.

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Lucien turned the key in the door and stepped inside his house. It was quiet, perhaps Jean was still in the studio, but at this time of night she would usually be in bed. He put his hat and coat away and went to put his bag in the surgery, then headed for the studio. Opening the door he could see the guard round the fire, nothing unusual, no sweet, sleeping figure on the couch. He shrugged his shoulders and decided to head to his bed. He couldn't expect her to wait up for him.

He pushed open his bedroom door, the beside lamp was on, she was sitting reading, in his bed. Jean was in his bed!

'Hello, ' she turned and smiled, 'you're back then?'

'Hello. Comfortable?' He grinned, trying to stop his heart doing strange little jumps in his chest.

'Mmm...' She looked at him, that cheeky but coy look she used when she wanted something, 'this side of the bed is cold.' She ran her hand over his side of the bed. He went over and kissed her. She raised her hand and handed him his pyjamas. He smiled and took the items with him to the bathroom. He was back before she had finished reading the page, but then she had read the same paragraph over and over again, without taking in the words. Lucien went round and slipped into bed. Jean put her bookmark in place and slid down next to him. He put his arms round her and drew her into a long satisfying kiss.

'Lucien.' She breathed, deep and sultry and gave herself up to him, letting him explore her body with his fingers, tender and expert touches making her shiver with excitement. She undid the buttons on his pyjama top and slid her hands over his chest, feeling his warmth and his strength. She kissed his chest and put her head down so she could hear the strong regular rhythm of his heartbeat.

He pulled he closer, stroking her hip under her nightdress then slipping his hand between her legs. She gasped as he touched her so intimately a touch she had longed for but was totally unprepared for how she felt. He stopped and looked at her, she relaxed and smiled and he continued his exploration of her body. She stroked her hand down his chest and stomach, pausing at the waistband of his pyjama trousers. He looked up from where he was kissing her breasts and smiled. They were past the point of no return, he helped her slip the trousers of and rolled her onto her back. Her breath hitched and she gave in to the pleasure of being made love to by Lucien Blake. And it was indeed a pleasure!

They lay side by side breathing heavily, Jean giggled.

Lucien harrumphed, 'Well I didn't expect that reaction.' He turned his head to look at her, he smiled at her, curls all over the place, pink cheeks and eyes bright with happiness.

'Oh Lucien.' She rolled over and cuddled close, 'I do love you.'

He kissed the top of her head and pulled her close as she drifted into a deep sleep. He lay awake for a while not wanting to miss a moment of her lying beside him, then slept, dreamlessly.

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Lucien positively breezed into the station ready for the search round the lake, 'Morning all, ' he greeted everyone, cheerfully.

'Bloody hell, Blake, 'Matthew grunted, 'you're too happy for a morning search.'

'Nonsense, Matthew.' Lucien stood with his hands in his pockets, 'are we ready then?'

The search team headed out to the lake, using the map they had looked at the previous day and the book Mr Storey had left with the doctor. They started looking for James' bicycle, walking down the avenue he had chosen for his 'airstrip'. They found it, lying bent and broken, hidden in the ditch. Matthew and Lucien stood looking up and forward in the direction of James' supposed flight and judged that he must have caught a good gust of wind to carry him over the trees. They could only imagine how he ended up in the tree. He would have to have been really high in the sky and must have been unable to hang on to the kite. Losing his grip he would have fallen with enough force to impale himself on the branch. According to the autopsy he died almost instantly, a student experiment gone horribly wrong. Now all they had to do was find the kite.

The search round the lake, and, with the aid of a small motor launch from the yacht club , in the water, took most of the day. It was Ned that spotted it. He was leaning over the edge of the boat when he saw something odd in the water. Not floating but lying just below the surface a long metal pole and some odd colours for a lake. Lucien held the lad while he leant over and grabbed the item. It was hauled into the launch, a huge kite, damaged from hitting the water, but definitely a kite that matched the description in James' book.

Back at the station they pieced together the evidence, creating a chain of events that led to the death of a gifted and imaginative engineer. Lucien phoned the Storeys to tell them the news, and again commiserated with them, telling them they should be proud of his memory, he was a bright young man.

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Lucien swirled the golden liquid in the glass. He was glad the case was over, a sad outcome, but at least now James' parents knew how he died. He looked up as Jean entered, carrying her sewing basket and some mending. She sat in her customary spot on the couch and he joined her, without waiting for her usual coy invitation.

'The glazier is coming tomorrow.' She said, conversationally.

'Uh, oh, yes.' He looked at her for any indication of what she would do once her window was repaired. 'It'll be fit for habitation again then, your room.'

'Mmm...I suppose so.' She agreed, threading her needle, 'I'm not sure I'm that keen on sleeping there anymore, though.'

'Oh, right.' He put his glass down. 'Which room do you want, then?'

'Oh, I think I'll stay where I've been sleeping for the past two nights.' She knotted the thread, 'that's if the current occupant doesn't mind.' A smile twitched around her lips.

'I expect he'll get used to it.' He flicked open the paper and started to read, smiling softly to himself. 'Better organise this wedding then, don't you think?'

'Suppose so.' She started to stitch his cuff back onto his shirt, 'any particular time you're thinking of.'

'Whatever suits, my dear.'

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Not sure if it would be possible for anyone to launch themselves with a kite and a bike. I think my imagination got the better of me there.


	5. Chapter 5 No more story winds

This is a rather long epilogue, more a final chapter really.

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Two years later:

Jean sat at the kitchen table, she had time for a cup of tea in peace. She was so busy these days. So much had happened since the James' Storey case, the winds that had finally brought her and Lucien together as a proper couple.

They had married two months after the funeral, which they had both attended at the request of the young lad's parents. In reply they had invited them to attend their small, civil wedding. The Storeys had changed their GP and were on Lucien's list, feeling more comfortable and cared for by him.

Jean's risk had paid off. She hadn't got pregnant straight away, she reckoned it had taken a week, she didn't want Lucien to get too smug. Even though she had her worries and it hadn't been an easy pregnancy, she had made it to the end. There had been two scares, even more worrying was that she found she was expecting twins, and if she lost this time it would be two babies at once. She had taken the advice of her own GP and Lucien and rested as much as possible, after each scare she had taken bed rest until the danger seemed to have passed.

Lucien had insisted they employ a housekeeper for all the housework and some of the cooking. Lucien's room had been cleared out so they could use it together and a side room between that and the studio had been turned into a bathroom for them. The studio had been turned into a family room, and another side room into the babies bedroom. The babies could be left in safety there, their toys could be left on the floor if surgery got busy. When the babies were old enough to negotiate the stairs safely Jean had decided they would sleep one in Charlie's old room and one in Mattie's. Nobody would see the chaos that the hitherto fastidious Jean Blake let happen in her house.

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The day the babies were born was a bright, sunny day, she took it as an omen that everything would be alright, babies don't die on sunny days she told herself between contractions. Lucien was allowed in with her, he had made sure she had the best care Ballarat Hospital could give. Their son was born first, a healthy six and a half pounds, a big twin for such a small woman. Sneaking out after him, as Jean always said, came the daughter she had always longed for. Madeleine was five pounds, quite a bit smaller than her brother. It was agreed by her husband and her doctor and the paediatrician that the boy, named Henry, had protected her and kept her in. Whatever the reason Jean had managed to give birth to a girl that survived she didn't care, she had everything she could ever want. She had given Lucien a son, he had given her a daughter.

Now the twins were walking, Henry still kept his sister safe, she was still small, more delicately made but strong willed. Lucien said she was like Jean in build and temperament. Charlie and Rose, now married, after Matthew had voiced his worries about their courtship, called regularly, they said the babies were miniatures of their parents and woe betide Ballarat in the future.

They had kept the housekeeper on, coming in daily to help Jean with the housework, but Jean had gone back to running the practice for Lucien. His standing had grown in the community, his list was long, he was widely respected for his work as police surgeon, they were comfortably off, enough for Jean to have her own small car to run the children about and visit her friends if she had too much to carry or the weather wasn't good enough to walk into town, life was good.

They were more in love than they had ever been, even if Lucien did still occasionally do things that annoyed her, but after all that had gone before she couldn't stay mad at him for long. They never went to bed on an argument, and always made up in their own way!

Jean's old room had been redecorated and was bright and welcoming. They no longer had lodgers, so her room, Charlie's and Mattie's became extra guest rooms for when Christopher brought his growing family over, he had added a son to join Amelia in her quest for danger, just like his brother.

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Jean sipped her tea and looked at the envelope that had arrived that morning. Addressed to Dr and Mrs Blake and bearing a London postmark she knew it was from Mattie. Mattie had not returned to Ballarat; her life had grown in England, she had married a Consultant Physician and produced two children herself. She regularly sent pictures of Richard and John, who were like her it seemed. Jean, in reply, sent photographs of her two and of her and Lucien. Family photographs that Rose would take for them. She knew the twins would sleep for at least half an hour more, exhausted with playing in the garden, so she opened the envelope.

'Dear Jean and Lucien,

Gosh, it seems like ages since I last wrote, I do hope you and the family are doing well. David, (her husband) has been offered a residency at The Royal Melbourne, so it seems I'm coming home. We will live in my parent's house. Mum didn't sell after dad died, she always hoped we'd come over for a long visit.'

Jean hadn't seen Mattie since she had come over, alone, for her father's funeral. He'd had a sudden and fatal heart attack two years past. David had stayed in England and looked after the boys.

'Anyway, to cut to the chase, David keeps telling me I waffle far too much, we'd like to come and see you and the family. We'll stay at the Soldier's Hill Hotel, after spending a week with mum getting over jet lag.

I'll ring you from mum's when I get there, which will be a month from the date of this letter. Must go, Richard's just hit John with a toy car, men!

Lots of love

Mattie

xxxx'

A huge smile split Jean's face. How wonderful, Mattie home, well in Melbourne, but Melbourne was only two hours away. She couldn't wait to tell Lucien and no way was Mattie staying in a hotel, they still had plenty of room, just needed to jiggle the rooms about a bit. She began to make plans for sorting out the rooms, she'd get Charlie to come over and help Lucien move furniture. All her extended family, together.

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Lucien came home from a round of house calls, this was the best part of his life, coming home to Jean and the children. He still blessed the high winds of two years ago.

'Jean!' He called as he hung his coat up.

'Kitchen!' Came the usual reply, along with the giggles of his children. Must be feeding time. He looked through the hatch, Jean was putting dishes in front of the babies, well toddlers now, how time flies, he thought. They did their best to feed themselves these days, it was a messy business but nobody minded, least of all the children. Madeleine used her fingers more that her spoon, delicately lifting pieces of vegetables out of the gravy, tasting each piece and smacking her lips in appreciation of her mother's cooking. Henry just stuffed his mouth with as much as he could and had to be watched for choking. He clearly enjoyed his food. Lucien grinned at the scene before him, Jean turned her head and smiled, serene and still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Maybe a couple more creases by her lovely eyes but they just served to add to her beauty. And she was as trim as ever, even after all those births! He moved into the kitchen and kissed each child on the top of their heads, then went to kiss Jean, nibbling her ear lobe.

'Everything alright?' He asked taking his jacket off to keep it clear of baby sized sticky fingers.

'Yes, everything is wonderful.' She replied, 'Mattie is coming back to Australia. David is going to work in the Royal Melbourne. She wants to come and visit.'

Lucien's grin was as wide as Jean's. 'That's marvellous.' He agreed.

'She says they'll stay at Soldier's Hill, but there's room here, if we sort out the rooms.' Jean had already started planning. 'She and David can have the old guest room, the boys can have Charlie's if we put another bed in there.'

'Makes sense.' He agreed pinching a piece of Henry's carrots, 'it was always the bigger room. I'll move Mattie's old bed in there.' Henry glared at his father,

'No, dada!' He yelled.

Jean giggled, her son was so forthright. 'Now Lucien, you'll get your dinner later.'

'What's for dessert?' He asked a twinkle in his eye.

'Oh, I'm not sure.' Her smile was just as wicked.

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'I'll get it!' Jean called in answer to the knock on the door. A huge grin appeared as she saw the visitors and she positively squealed like a teenager.

'Mattie!' She wrapped her arms round the woman in front of her. 'Oh Mattie, how wonderful to see you!'

'Jean?' Lucien appeared round the corner his arms full of children, his face broke into a wide grin. 'Mattie, how good to see you.'

Jean looked up and broke away from her friend. 'I'm sorry, you must be David.' She held her hand out to the man standing behind Mattie.

'I am.' He smiled, 'and Mattie warned me, so no apology necessary.' He took her hand and shook it gently. 'It's lovely to meet you, at last, Mrs Blake.'

'It's lovely to meet you too.' She grinned back, 'and it's Jean.' She stood aside to let their visitors in, greeting the children gently.

Lucien took their guests into the family room while Jean and Mattie went to make tea.

'So Jean,' Mattie took the cups and saucers out of the familiar cupboard, 'you look so well. The photos don't do you justice. And the children, they are just the image of the pair of you.'

'Thank you, Mattie,' Jean replied as she prepared tea and drinks for the children, 'You look well too. Are you happy?'

'Very, you?' Although to Mattie it was a silly question.

'Oh, Mattie, I couldn't be happier.' Jean couldn't put into words how happy she was, 'I don't think I've stop smiling for two years!'

'Good.' She took the tray and then, 'Family room?'

'Oh, sorry, it's what you remember as the studio.' Jean grinned. 'It's not always tidy, the children leave their toys over the floor, but at least nobody sees.' Jean grinned.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxIn the studio Lucien had put the twins on the floor and David had introduced his boys to the Blake children. Henry made sure that Madeleine was safe and shared his toys with the two new friends.

They were deep in conversation when their wives bought in the refreshments. Jean was pleased to see Lucien had something in common with David, other than medicine and Mattie was glad that her surrogate parents and husband had bonded. the children were playing happily, all was well with the world.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxHoping all is well in the Blake universe from this story onwards. I had to finish somewhere, and with all together...Thanks again for the lovely reviews.


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